He steps in, keeping his gaze low as he closes the door and puts the clothes out of danger of getting damp. He's done well to get none of the gore that was still on him on the new clothes.
It takes him a moment, after L.L speaks, to respond. Because those screams are still echoing in his head and he still has L.L's blood on his hands, literally as well as figeratively.
He's been in hell two years and still having conversations with people who he witnessed died is strange and unreal.
"It wasn't." Quick. He could have told him that, that hell delighted in pain and suffering. A quick death was not something offered here.
"I..." His words dry up. What can he say? That he is sorry? What good was that. What was done was done. They'd known the moment they had been tied down what the inevitable outcome was.
no subject
It takes him a moment, after L.L speaks, to respond. Because those screams are still echoing in his head and he still has L.L's blood on his hands, literally as well as figeratively.
He's been in hell two years and still having conversations with people who he witnessed died is strange and unreal.
"It wasn't." Quick. He could have told him that, that hell delighted in pain and suffering. A quick death was not something offered here.
"I..." His words dry up. What can he say? That he is sorry? What good was that. What was done was done. They'd known the moment they had been tied down what the inevitable outcome was.